


descending like fire

by advantagetexas



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, its not a main plot point i just wanted yall to know, trans!Whiskey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 11:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6802522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/advantagetexas/pseuds/advantagetexas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tango asks a lot of questions, especially late at night on away game stay-overs. Like, a /lot/ of questions. Whiskey somehow manages to come up with a foolproof plan for keeping him quiet. Does it involve duct tape? No. Does it involve a frankly irresponsible number of vending machine cheese crackers? Maybe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	descending like fire

“Hey, Whiskey?” Tango’s voice drifts over from the other bed in their cramped hotel room. Internally, Whiskey sighs. The last six questions, all about the most inane things, have been prefaced by the same phrase.

“Yeah, Tango?” he replies out loud, not letting his slight frustration show through. Tango meant well, really, he did, but sometimes talking to him late at night could be…let’s just say “mentally draining”.

“Nevermind,” Tango replies after a few moments of silence. Whiskey frowns into his pillow. That was new; the whole “giving up on a question” thing.

“You’re not bothering me,” Whiskey reassures him, frowning deeper when Tango’s only reply is a light scoff. He rolls over, tossing his covers back and turning on the bedside lamp. Tango looks up at him from a blanket cocoon, looking utterly confused.

“C’mon, get up,” Whiskey says offhand, grabbing his wallet from the jeans heaped beside his bed. He was in a t-shirt and flannel pajama pants, but he really didn’t feel like changing into day clothes, especially since that would mean going through the process of putting his binder back on. He glances back over at Tango, who’s now just standing there, staring at him like a lost puppy. An adorable lost puppy. “Shoes?” he adds, and Tango scrambles for his sneakers. His freakishly large, freakishly ugly sneakers. Someone please help this man learn how to dress properly.

When they’re both finally somewhat dressed, Whiskey leads Tango out and down the silent hall, the rest of the hotel’s guests long since having gone to sleep. At the end of the hall, in an alcove, there’s a glowing soda machine next to an icebox that seems to be undergoing some sort of mini seismic event. There’s also a vending machine filled with all sorts of junk food. Whiskey looks over, seeing Tango eyeing the case like a starving hyena, before putting a $5 bill into the machine.

“Huh? Whiskey, isn’t this stuff off the diet plan?” Tango asks, sounding absolutely scandalized.

“I already put the money in the machine,” Whiskey replies with a shrug. “What do you want to eat?”

Tango looks conflicted for a minute, before answering, “Oreos. And maybe some of those cheese crackers. And a Milky Way.” Whiskey nods and puts in the various codes, adding in a Three Musketeers for himself. He hands Tango the snacks then looks back to the soda machine. By the time he turns back, two cans in hand, Tango’s already opened the package of crackers and currently has four of them in his mouth at the same time. Whiskey hands him a can with a tiny smirk, taking back his candy bar. Tango looks down at the can label, confused.

“Ah-uhl ‘uice?” he asks, mouth still full of crackers.

“Compromise,” Whiskey replies, before walking off down the hall, back toward their room. Instead of going back, though, he walks to the end of the hall, opening the door for the balcony. It wasn’t much, just a concrete square with an iron railing and an ashtray for those that didn’t want to walk down the three flights of stairs to smoke out front. Whiskey sits down at the edge, threading his feet through the bars and letting them dangle over the side. He’s surprised, a second later, when Tango sits down next to him.

“I thought you didn’t like heights?” he asks. Whiskey just shrugs in response. Now wasn’t really the time to admit that that wasn’t what he meant by “I don’t really like to get high.” They sit in silence for a few moments, save for the crunch of Tango chowing down on his Oreos. A cold breeze blows through and Whiskey shivers. A second later, he hears shuffling, and then suddenly there’s a warm jacket around his shoulders. He looks over at Tango whose hoodie is now mystically gone, and just watches him for a second.

He’s staring at the skyline, seemingly entranced by the web of bright lights. They glint off his eyes in the darkness like gems in a showcase.

“Thank you,” he whispers after a few minute, seemingly unaware of the fact that he’d said anything.

“No problem,” Whiskey replies, not knowing what else to say. Tango looks over at him and smiles, but he can tell that something is still slightly off.

“Whiskey, I think I’m gay,” Tango says suddenly, looking back out at the city.

“Same,” Whiskey replies, patting him on the shoulder in what he hopes comes across as a comforting way.

“You think I might be gay?” Tango asks, completely seriously. Whiskey can’t help but crack a smile and laugh at that.

“No, me too,” he clarifies, and watches Tango’s eyes widen, and then his face change into one of pure joy.

“Oh, cool!” he says happily, looking back over the balcony bars. There’s about 30 seconds of comfortable silence before he asks, “Hey, Whiskey?”

“Yeah?”

“Chowder and Farmer want me to come see a movie with them next weekend, do you want to come with me? Like, as a date?” he asks nervously. “It’s fine if you don’t want to, and I’m not just asking you because you’re-“

“Tango.”

“-it’s because I really like you as a person, like, you’re so nice, and smart-“

“Tango.”

“-and you always stick up for me when people pick on me, and-“

“ _Tango._ ” Whiskey says, putting a hand over Tango’s on the cold concrete of the balcony. “Yes, okay? Yes.”

“I…I honestly didn’t think it would go this well.”

“Is that what you were trying to ask earlier?”

“…maybe,” Tango replies, his face getting slightly red.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to ask things, you know.”

“I’m not afraid of asking things,” Tango clarifies, “I’m afraid of sounding stupid.”

“But you’re not stupid,” Whiskey responds, face falling when he sees the crestfallen look on Tango’s face.

“That’s not what everyone else says,” Tango mumbles, and Whiskey can feel the fire rising in his chest.

“Who said that? Someone on the team?” he nearly hisses, the vehemence clear in his voice. Because honestly how dare they? How dare they make this literal ray of sunshine feel bad about himself?

“No! God, no,” Tango says, surprised,” The um, some of the lacrosse team guys are in my English comp class, and they sit behind me and just whisper really rude things about me.” Tango sighs sadly, and suddenly Whiskey has the strongest urge to fight the entire LAX team. Because honestly? Fuck those guys.

“Tango,” Whiskey says, drawing the taller boy’s attention. “I want you to promise me something, okay? I want you to promise me that you won’t let _anyone_ make you feel like you’re stupid. Because you aren’t. You’re curious, there’s a difference.”

“I…I promise,” Tango manages to stutter, the shock evident on his face. “I think that’s the most words you’ve ever said to me all at once. You know, your voice is really nice, like, I hope that’s an okay thing to say, but it is, it’s really nice and-“

Whiskey cuts Tango off by pressing their lips together gently, the rest of his sentence turning into a satisfied noise.

“You taste gross,” Whiskey says with a little laugh as he pulls away, “like Oreos and crackers.”

“I guess we’ll just have to do that some more later so that I can make it up to you,” Tango says, prompting Whiskey to smack him lightly across the shoulder, both of them laughing in the chilly night air.  

**Author's Note:**

> so the title is a reference to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NH9NKZ8Id1c) song, which kinda fits the theme of what i was going for, if only slightly


End file.
